The Moment I Fell in Love with Myself Again

The moment I fell in love with myself again

(There are absolutely triggering moments in this involving love, loss, childhood trauma, PTSD, abusive relationships, etc. so let this serve as a warning.

You know, its been years that I have spent trying to convince myself and everyone around me that I loved who I was. When you do a lot of activism in the Me Too community, the need to be healed and love oneself can be a bit overwhelming. At times I have felt like I was not healed enough to advocate for those who resonate with my story. Imposter syndrome does not accompany me many places, but in this world I live with it. I wish I could say that that goes away. I wish I could promise you all that there will ever be a time where healing reaches 100%. I do not know. I only know where I am on this journey. I only know of the moments where I have been engulfed in self pride and love. Often when I post these stories or letters, it is about the negative side of survival. Do not get me wrong, there are not too many positives that surround having been victimized in the way I (and many others) have. It is a hard road and none of us take it lightly.

There aren’t people who go through these things that romanticize it in the way I have been subjected to. People I have dated marked me as the tortured artist trope and adore that about me until the moment happens when they realize that it is not romantic. It is rough, there are sleepless nights that I need a partner to accompany me in. Flashbacks happen that can be so bad I am literally screaming and shaking and knowing how to address that is a necessity in a partner. Knowing how to make me feel safe in those moments where that seems impossible is a huge undertaking that many cannot accommodate. Some moments I need to be walked to the bathroom because my trauma induced vertigo is so intense that it is either stand and fall or piss myself. None of this is pretty, but it is all very real and can be intense.

Now I know some reading this may take it as overwhelming. Some I have dated took these facts to mean that their feelings could not amount to mine. This could not be further from the truth. Each of our worst problems is our worst problem. You are allowed to feel pain from whatever provokes that within you. I’ve said it before and Ill say it again: Self sacrificing without your partner knowing only breeds resentment. We can handle your pain. You are allowed to set boundaries on ours. It is not every moment of every day that any of us are able to handle sorrow and pain. There will be times that one of us must accommodate the other a bit more. Communicating these boundaries and this need is key. I cannot read your mind nor you mine.

After everything happened with my mom, it was frequently just my father and I around one another. My relationship with my dad has taught me a lot over the years- mostly good with a few moments of prideful interruptions. The most important lesson it taught me was how arguing did not have to mean cruelty or aggression. The last time my father and I argued like this was when I was very young and I played soccer. I remember this moment so fondly because I had not yet seen a grown man react like this to a situation where I am close to hurt. I was refusing to go to soccer practice, I don’t remember why but I can be almost sure that it was a result of some embarrassing, clumsy move on my behalf. We were yelling and arguing and he was mad that I was being so defiant. I ran away from him through the house, locking myself in my room. I remember him being so angry and banging on my door for me to let him in. I was scared at the time. Even though my father had not given me reason to fear him like this, retrospect has taught me that there is a reason for all of these behaviors.

As he banged on the door, my mirror became unhinged and fell onto me shattering. I was fine, not even a scratch graced my body post shatter. The look on his face when he came in is such a powerful reference in my adolescence. He stormed in and his first response was not anger or blame, it was apologetic. He bursted in concerned about nothing else but my health and safety. I remember being so confused. I did not understand that a grown man could put aside that anger to focus on my well being. How tragic that this was such a conundrum to me.

This moment sticks out to me because it is the last time my father or I yelled during an argument with one another. From that moment on, our disagreements were spent sitting down, calmly talking about whatever it was. It was one of the first healthy lessons I was able to learn. My dad taught me how I should be treated.

I mention this story because this quality within myself is something that makes me love who I have become. I am so good at disagreements and handling that tension with a level head. To the point where if I am upset for no reason, I am comfortable saying that the other person has not done anything and telling them that my emotional state is solely based in feeling without reasoning. Yelling only pours from my mouth if I feel scared or backed into a corner and I can say with absolute certainty, that in two years, I have yelled twice. One of those times at my pup.

Recently i found myself talking to another person who has experience with childhood trauma. We talk about a lot of aspects of these experiences from the pain, healing, and what type of emotional ability that it gives us. Survivors know pain, we know how to empathize with others and how it feels when nobody stands up for us. We know what it is like to need that hand reached out and we know what it is like to feel like we cannot speak. Silence is deafening. Sure, I am making generalizations in this, but I suppose it is just something that I am consistently experiencing with survivors of trauma.

I look back at my life and so many things come to mind. Not one of them being regret. I am not a religious person nor do I find spirituality my calling, how could I with the life I have lived? That being said, I often find myself feeling that if anyone had to go through something like that, it should be me. Not because I deserve it- let me be very clear, I do not deserve anything from my past and especially my childhood. What leads me to this mindset is that I think that I am a very strong person. I think I can handle a lot that some cannot. If someone had to bare this burden of pain; if someone had to experience the level of vulnerability it takes to encourage a community for those who need it; if someone had to live through trauma so that someone else didn’t have to or so that someone else had a shoulder to lean on when they felt alone, let it be me.

Let me be the person that has everyone’s back. I am here, I am loud, I am queer, I am biracial, I am a middle child, a Virgo, intensely type A, an animal lover, a hopeless romantic, sober, nicotine addicted, interdisciplinary, dreamer, an artist and an activist. Wearing so many hats has become such a wonderful part of life to me. Empowering myself to adjust to the role necessary for any situation is so madly incredible to me. It took a long time to realize these as beautiful. It took me a long time to see the power residing within myself. It has been right under my nose, yet watching over me for a long time.

Recently I took a huge step- a terrifying one- something I honestly never could have thought possible before. I went back to the land where my childhood died. My (incredible) partner had a hotel room booked in Denver for a cancelled show and of course, lovely as the people at the extravagant superspa are, they refused to issue a refund despite the intensely great reason for needing one (ya know, a global pandemic). I digress. So without thinking, when he told me about it, I blurted out “oh cool, lets go”. It was going to land the week before my birthday anyways plus how cool would it be to spend that much time with someone I am amazed by more each day. I now have the hotel to thank for an incredible experience. Thankfully, the heartlessness of a hotel chain led me to this journey with this man.

As the day to leave approached, I found myself terrified. I packed seriously about 10 bags full of anything I could possibly need for any circumstance. I was literally prepared for our car to sink underwater (if you’ve ever seen the drive from Tennessee to New Mexico, you know how ridiculous this notion is.) But the preparedness is what I needed to be okay. Trusting myself and knowing that I had my back was better than anything else could be to prepare me for such a huge step in my life. Having someone who I trusted and felt safe with by my side eased a lot of the tension I was feeling.

Before we left, my partner extended the trip. He wanted to give us more time to explore and experience together. Despite all of the trauma that radiates for me within the rocks of New Mexico, I love those landscapes, the culture, the sun, the air, the food, the drive. I love that place so much. To show him New Mexico was to show a part of me that not too many people get to see. A part of me that I haven’t even seen in a very long time.

So there we are, the morning of the trip. My partner packing up our car while I spent the morning mentally preparing myself for what was to come. Quadruple checking bags and their loading while he moved my ridiculously heavy luggage. He gave me time, no rush, we left when I was ready. This is important to note because he respected how serious this was for me enough to step back and let me take my time approaching something that was terrifying to me. Armed with a full car and heart, we set sail for the Wild West.

The first night is always the hardest when staying away from my comfort zone. I thought for sure I would wind up back home the next day. I even received news that someone close to me had been diagnosed with Covid-19. News that sent me down a bit of a worrying spiral because this person means everything to me. But alas, going home would do no good for me or them. Nevertheless, he offered. I bring point out these moments to help those of you who have people with trauma in your lives understand what is needed. I have felt bad for so long about so many things, I need the permission to operate within a safe zone in life today. I need to know that I have a way out of any situation without someone being angry. Because that anger puts me back into my claustrophobic zone.

The night was rough. I didn’t have panic attacks before bed, but once I fell asleep intensity hit hard. I had some pretty surface nightmares involving my family and my fears they would find me out west. That did not really bother me because I find myself constantly having these dreams. The strange part was that I woke up spinning. Worse than any vertigo I had seen before. I was nauseated and scared and confused. So we got up for a bit and watched some Disney movies while I tried to relax enough to get some more sleep.

When we got to New Mexico the next day, my buhbs had gotten us this gorgeous Pueblo style hotel suite. It was stunning and romantic and just the relaxing place I needed to start the trip. At one point he said to me that he had gotten that room so that if I couldn’t leave the room (because of my anxiety), we would still be in a cool and interesting place together. This was another moment that made me feel safe and secure. My feelings felt considered and I felt I had the space to really delve into the emotional journey I was on.

There is this moment in the (absolutely stunning and incredibly written and played) Queen and Slim where she is telling slim what she wants in a partner. Its something that stopped me in my tracks and made me think so differently about what healing would be for me. She told him that she wanted someone who would hold her hand while she nursed her scars. This is such a beautiful statement because, for me, it serves as a reminder that I am responsible for my healing. I do not rely on others for it. While at the same time, encouraging reaching out for a hand. Accepting support from someone else. It is healthy and beautiful and I think that we all honestly want that.

That moment in New Mexico made me feel like that.

This poetic ideal of love in a film had made its way into my life.

I felt incredible and free.

Freedom is something I have been longing for. For many years, I have felt held back from living a full life. Going out at night, to shows, bars, parties, and the like, was difficult. Many of my friends have not been supportive about my boundaries or my sobriety throughout the years. My partners have not always been understanding about my fear surrounding travel. Again, these moments have made me feel like the way I felt was my fault. What I needed to do to keep from being triggered was unacceptable or hindering.

It hasn’t always been fair and it certainly has not been easy. So much more that strictly my social life has been hindered. I find evening classes difficult, eating past a certain time is off the table, staying over at someone else’s house impossible.

The next day in NM, we explored the city a bit (staying socially distanced of course). We went to an outdoor sculpture garden, had a picnic at the park, and explored some of the beauty that Santa Fe has to offer. I had fun, I let go, I was completely engulfed in this moment- not worrying about the next one or fearing the last. I remember at one point I teared up because it had been so very long since I found myself in the moment. I was great all day and when night came, the nightmares remained. The spinning woke me up once again and I found myself being supported without guilt.

The next day we went through Taos on our way to Denver. If you have ever been, you know what a gorgeous drive that is. I got to see old friends and explore the rio grande gorge and the Earthships. When we left, I couldn’t help but cry. I felt so full of love and pride to the point that the only way I could express myself was through tears. (Silent tears at that)

This was the moment.

I fully loved myself again.

I loved that I took the brave step for myself. That I had opened my life up to the support of this wonderful person. For preparing and thinking ahead of everything so that I could trust and take care of myself. I did not feel reliant on him, I didn’t feel overwhelmed or scared. Just present.

What a strange notion to some. To feel present as such a positive. You have to understand that as a survivor I am so often reliving the past while worrying about the future that I am unable to enjoy what is happening now.

So there I was, embracing all of my seemingly neurotic, over-communicative, prepared, dark, loving, intelligent, funny qualities. It was as if I had only been looking at myself through an accidental opening of my front camera on my phone while it was in my lap. I was finally on portrait mode. I was finally seeing my beauty.

This whole trip, he was constantly telling me all the positive qualities I possess. So much so that I told him I was going to come home looking like the queen of hearts (big headed). One day in particular, I was receiving a hurricane of compliments from him and I asked why. My first thought was of course negative, I thought maybe I was being odd, perhaps he was trying to get to the bad news. You know, left field ideas of what was actually happening.

He turned to me.

“I just don’t think you heard it enough in your life.”

I was taken aback.

This person, my partner, saw a deficit and decided that he would make it up to me. Not because it was at the fault of his own, but rather the fact that he felt I deserved the love and support. It was such a revelation to me, not only because of the thoughtfulness that accompanied this kind moment, but also because I know I was worthy of it.

I knew that I deserved to be told I was incredible and beautiful and unique. It was completely within the realm of possibility that I was one of a kind, hard working, stubborn as hell, and tenacious with a heart overflowing with love and kindness to give to the world.

It was not that he needed to say these things for me to fall in love with myself again.

It wasn’t that I needed him around for it either.

It was almost like I knew what would happen and I wanted him to witness it. I wanted him to be able to experience this transformative moment.

It was almost as if he unlocked the door so that I could make the decision to step through it.

I got the permission and space to love myself.

The only possible way I can describe the feelings to follow is this: invincible. This word rang through my head for the remainder of the trip. Once I realized that I was worth all of this positivity and care, all I could think about was the many things I would be able to do in the future. This word echoed in my head over and over again on repeat. If I could fly, I would have.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not foolish enough to think that my life will be eternal. I fully understand that restrictions still lie amongst my borders and that I have a lot of healing to do in the future. It was just that for one of the first times, I could actually envision this as a possibility. Being able to trust myself enough to travel and being prepared for any emotional or physical happenings along the way gave me the nirvana I needed.

So here I am today. Finally feeling as though I can explore these inner thoughts through my written word- completely honestly. Mapping out every moment of emotional growth or pain. For me, these writings are somewhat like a diary. Just one that I can share with people who may be going through something similar. Perhaps for someone to read who has a partner with similar issues to mine.

Sometimes it is hard to express what we need. Sometimes it is hard to convince ourselves that we deserve those needs.

We do.

You do.

I do.

Move forward in your life giving permission for people around you to love themselves. Set up the chairs in that space for them. Hold their hand. Encourage the progress they make. For I can tell you firsthand and with absolute certainty that it is so helpful to have someone hold me up.

It is an unfathomable feeling knowing that I can have both the support of people around me while also relying solely on myself to heal.

Life is getting better.

I am okay.

And such a bad bitch.